


Ordinary World

by pherryt



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Avengers AU, Canon Divergent, Cuddling, Falling In Love, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, PTSD, Polyamory, Rescue Missions, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Sign Language, avenger!bucky, clint's a softie, cuddle therapy, deaf!Clint, disguises, established stucky, fraction history, hurt!Clint, lucky - Freeform, past trauma, retired!clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:47:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26566798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pherryt/pseuds/pherryt
Summary: When Bucky let Stevie and Sam railroad him into trying...cuddle therapy (shudder)... he didn't expect it to help - or to fall in love with his assigned cuddle partner. Good thing Stevie was on board for it...Now how to convince Clint?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Stucky, ameriwinterhawk
Comments: 51
Kudos: 171
Collections: Charity Hawktion 2020





	1. Part 1 - Bucky POV

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vexbatch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vexbatch/gifts).



> charity hawktion prompt for vexbatch!!! AAAAAAh you wanted Ameriwinterhawk and cuddle therapy and here ya go! Part 2 is in beta and will go up when I've made the art to go with it ;D thank you for bidding on me! I hope you enjoy this! it was a lot of fun to do and i'm so glad to have been picked. it went a little off the rails in the middle there, but then i wrangled it back around again by the end of part 2 ;D
> 
> Title comes from the song 'Ordinary World' by Duran Duran which if you listen to the lyrics is actually very appropriate for these guys i think.

Bucky was ambushed when he woke up for his morning coffee. Steve hadn't been in bed, but that was normal. He needed less sleep than Bucky did and loved going on runs - whereas Bucky did not.

Thank God for Sam Wilson, otherwise Steve might keep bugging Bucky anyway to be his running partner.

“So, I was talking to Sam,” Steve said as Bucky poured a mug of coffee. Steve was already leaning on the counter, his own mug in hand. “You know, about that thing, where you uh… cuddle with other people to get over your aversion to touch?”

Fuck it, Bucky changed his mind. Sam could rot in hell.

“I already told you. I’m not doing it, Stevie. I’m not touch starved. I got you,” Bucky bit out, perhaps a bit too harshly. Why couldn't Steve see that Bucky was fine? Happy, even? That Steve was enough?

Steve never thought he was enough, for Bucky, or the world. Why else would the punk have  _ let  _ himself be a guinea pig?

“Bucky, this'll be good for you. You can't keep shutting yourself off from everyone but me,” Steve said earnestly, with big, round, blue eyes catching at Bucky imploringly.

Fuck. He was going to cave, wasn’t he?

* * *

Somehow, (he knew exactly how. Dammit, Rogers and your - what did they call them these days? Oh yeah -  _ puppy dog eyes)  _ Bucky found himself down at the VA center later that afternoon, the new one that Tony had helped fund after Sam had agreed to be on the Avengers - under one condition:

He still wanted to do his sessions, still wanted to help other Vets. It wasn’t like Avengering was a full time gig, after all.

Dammit, how’d he let Steve talk him into this? Into touching strangers? 

God, he was a sucker for Stevie’s blue eyes.

Shoulders hunched, trusty cap pulled low, dressed in far too many layers for the weather even though he  _ knew  _ Tony’s techno cover thingy for his arm would work just fine to hide it, Bucky pushed the door open and walked into the room. Instinctively, he scanned it, catching a couple of the few other folks already there doing the same. Well. They  _ were  _ all Vets, of one kind or another, with their own instincts and trauma. PTSD. That’s what Sam had called it.

“James!” Sam greeted him with a shit eating grin. Dammit. Sam had been trying to get him to do this for months. He  _ knew  _ Bucky would cave to just about anything Steve wanted, which was exactly why Sam had worked on Steve when Bucky had been too stubborn to give this a try.

Cuddling. With strangers. How the fuck was that supposed to help anything?

Sam approached him, talking quieter. “Seriously, man, I’m glad you came.”

“I still don't think this is a good idea. Someone’s gonna out me, and then this place’ll get hounded.”

“I notice you didn’t say it won’t help,” Sam pointed out. “That’s a good sign. You’re willing to give this a chance, and it works best if you can give it an honest try. And don't worry, we’ve got you covered.” 

Sam pulled Bucky further into the room. As a fellow Avenger, Sam was one of the few people Bucky let touch him. Tony, too. The others he still shied away from unless it was necessary. He still tensed up, though, and Sam gave him an understanding look.

“Look, Tony gave you that thing for your arm, right? And you wear a mask when you're an Avenger. We only go by first names here, to make people more comfortable, help them get into the mindset they need to be for this to work. So I'll use James for you, instead of Bucky.  _ Everyone _ knows Caps best guy never went by James. Besides,” Sam looked around. “Even if they figure it out, everyone here’s discrete.”

Bucky sighed, staring around warily. The group was small, a grand total of 5 others, so he evened out the numbers at least. It’d be kind of assholish of him to walk away at this point and leave someone else without a cuddle partner. He wondered who he’d get. There were two women and three men, all of them all sitting nervously within a couple of chairs from each other. Except one, who appeared to want to be here even less than Bucky did, given that he was in the far corner of the room. He was lounging, as if totally relaxed, but Bucky could read the body language perfectly, how defensive it was. 

Like everyone, the guy here looked worn down, tired. But he also looked stubborn as fuck and like he’d lost a few rounds with Jack Dempsey. Or Sugar Ray. Idly, Bucky wondered how Sugar Ray had fared. He’d been an up and coming star back when Bucky joined the war and, of course, Bucky hadn’t exactly been able to follow his career afterwards. 

He could always ask JARVIS, he supposed.

Sam, of course, was still talking, drawing Bucky’s attention away from the blonde in the back.

“Also, I've got the perfect person to pair you up with. He’s an asshole, but he's yours and Steve's kind of asshole. He’s a tough case but I think you can crack him.”

Bucky stared at Sam suspiciously. “Wait, am I here for me, or are you using me to do your dirty work?” 

Sam shrugged, raising his hands a bit. “I mean, you’re also a tough case, so it’s a match made in heaven.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “ _ You’re _ an asshole.”

“Takes one to know one. C’mon, meet the gang.”

“Welcome, everyone,” Sam said as Bucky took a seat. Everyone stilled and looked toward Sam as he spoke. The man in the back didn’t even twitch, much less move closer. Bucky was sure he was sleeping. “I know this method is a little unorthodox, but thank you for giving it a try. Being  _ willing _ to try will make a huge impact on what you get out of this. Will it work for everybody? No, and there’s no shame in that. There’s no shame, no judgement here. It’s a safe space, all right? Why don’t we go around and introduce ourselves. Let’s stick to first names, really try and get comfortable here. Y’all know I’m Sam.”

Sam looked at Bucky first with a raised eyebrow. Bucky sighed and rolled his eyes. Of course. “James.” 

The rest of the group flowed around naturally after that, introducing themselves in a line once the first person broke the ice, till at last there was only the tired looking man in the corner. There was an awkward silence as everyone waited for him to speak up, but he didn’t even open his eyes and Sam just moved on.

"All right. Now, we’ll go slow,” Sam assured in his smooth, calming tone. Bucky would call it his therapist voice, but Sam used it all the time. Unless that was just Bucky. Fucker, he was _always_ therapizing, wasn’t he? 

“So since I already know you all from the regular sessions, I've taken the liberty of assigning each of you the cuddle partner I thought might work best. But let me know if any of you need to switch around. I’m a therapist, not a miracle worker, despite what the media would like you to believe about us. My name’s Sam, not Scotty, and I’m just as human as all of you.”

There were a few, unsure chuckles from around the room and Bucky could  _ see  _ people relaxing. 

“Again, we’ll start slow. Today, we’re just going to sit next to each other, feel the heat of another body against ours - knee to knee, shoulder to shoulder. It’s more comforting than you’d think. By the end of our session we should hopefully have progressed to holding hands. In the meantime," Sam continued, "Talk about anything. The weather, your pets. Nothing big or momentous necessary. We've got other outlets for that. Eventually, reach out and take a hand - make sure to telegraph what you’re doing, don’t want to take anyone by surprise."

Bucky watched as people began to shift around as Sam told them who they were paired with and somehow wasn't surprised when he found out his cuddle partner was the man keeping himself separate from the rest, eyes closed as if he were sleeping. Sam gave him a significant look when Bucky hesitated and Bucky flipped him off and stood, making his way over to the other man.

Bucky settled in next to the man, debating on waking him or not. He obviously needed the sleep, and who was Bucky to begrudge anyone with circles that deep and dark under their eyes a few extra moments of sleep?

“You know you look like a hobo,” the guy muttered, without opening his eyes.

“Thought you were sleeping,” Bucky said, amusement tinging his voice. He knew what he looked like, with the cap and the hair and the multiple layers of clothing. It was, honestly, a way to feel safe, unseen when he went out and about.

“I was, till you invaded my space,” the other man said grumpily.

“My name’s James,” Bucky said, though he almost slipped and said Bucky. The man grunted but didn’t offer anything else. “I think you’re supposed to reciprocate when someone offers their name.”

The man cracked an eye open. A blue, haunted, tired eye pierced through him and James had to repress a shudder. “You’re a little old fashioned, aren’t ya?”

Bucky bristled, but the man sighed, yawned and stretched, Bucky’s eyes being drawn to the sheer  _ length  _ of him. “Not that it matters, but I’m Clint.”

“That’s fine, Clint, I didn’t want to be here either,” James allowed.

“Oh thank fuck,” Clint muttered. “At least I won’t be fucking up even more people.” That was so similar to what Bucky had been thinking when he realized he’d evened out the odds that it startled a small laugh out of him.

“I thought that was my specialty,” James said.

That seemed to break the ice, a slow, but tired grin spreading over the scruffy face beside him. Without realizing it, as they talked, they gravitated towards each other unconsciously, and it wasn’t until Sam called a halt to their session that James realized they’d accidentally done at least some of what Sam had wanted.

Knee to knee, shoulder to shoulder. All that was missing was the handholding.

They parted on a handshake, Bucky already looking forward to the next session.

No way he was telling  _ Sam  _ that, the fucker. He’d probably be gloating for months.

* * *

At the next session Clint looked, if possible, even worse.

“Did you even sleep between the last time we were here and now?” Bucky asked by way of greeting. Clint grunted, arms crossed over his chest. Clint didn’t even bother opening his eyes as Bucky sat down. And were those new bruises on his face? Bandages on his hands? That was definitely a bandaid over the bridge of his nose.

Sam speechified again, but Bucky didn’t listen. He knew who he was supposed to be with and he knew how this was supposed to work. Sam had been gushing - without telling a single, pertinent detail to Steve - how he thought this was actually going to work, based on the first session.

Steve had looked so hopeful, Bucky hadn’t had the heart to burst his bubble.

Clint, on the other hand, looked like someone had already burst his bubble. And broken his nose. And who knew what else.

Bucky kicked his own feet out and hunched into his jacket. It hadn’t been a good week for him either. Nightmares had kept him up, had kept  _ Steve  _ up, and that had made Bucky feel guilty as fuck. Then there’d been that disaster in the field, the civilians who’d run straight into danger because they’d recognized him - not as an Avenger but as Hydra’s Weapon.

They had come out of it alive, but it had been a near thing, and none of them had come out unscathed.

They’d blamed him for that too, though they’d been the ones who’d run.

To say that the guilt and nightmares had intensified after that would be an understatement. He sighed, letting his head drift back and hit the wall with a soft bang. He blinked up at the ceiling, and didn’t notice when the blinks got longer and longer between -

Till he woke up with a forward jerk, breathing hard and shaking. Clint was staring at him in sympathy. “You awake now?”

“Fuck,” Bucky growled, running both hands over his face, straight up into his hair, knocking off his ballcap as his fingers clutched at his own head. He hunched into himself, elbows on his knees, felt the angry tears pricking his eyes.

“Shit weeks all around, I guess,” Clint said. His voice was rough, like he hadn’t been using it much.

It was Bucky’s turn to grunt. “Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Hell no, I ain’t your therapist. That’s Sam’s job,” Clint said. “Sides, you wouldn’t want me in your head, I’d just fuck everything up more.”

Bucky flinched at the thought of  _ anyone  _ in his brain, swallowing the choking gasp that tried to escape.  _ That’s not what he meant _ , he reminded himself.  _ Sam’s not HYDRA, Sam’s not HYDRA, Sam’s not -  _

He stood abruptly, knocking his chair into the wall and looking around a little wide eyed. Sam looked over at him, startled, quickly making his way over to Bucky, concern flashing in his eyes. 

“James, are you -”

“Gotta go,” Bucky bit out, and rushed out of the room. Bucky got maybe halfway down the thankfully empty hall before he stumbled in his panic, hit the wall and slid down it, legs suddenly unable to hold him up. He flinched when a body settled next to him. “G’way, Sam,” he forced out between the gasps.

“Not Sam, and you ain’t gotta talk either, but I figured if you were gone, there was no point in stayin’,” came Clint’s voice. 

True to his words, Clint didn’t pressure Bucky into talking about whatever had set him off the way Steve or Sam might have, which was nice. They meant well, he knew, but sometimes Bucky needed something else completely. He closed his eyes, rested his head on his knees and focused on breathing and counting. As his breathing finally came under control, he suddenly registered that Clint  _ was  _ talking. About a dog?

“-sweetest dog you’ll ever meet, I swear. Sometimes, I don’t know how a dog can be that  _ good _ . Especially after the way he was treated. Makes you wanna believe there really is good in the world, y’know? Probably ain’t healthy that he loves pizza so much, and I guess that’s on me. I try not to give him as much as I used to, and save it for a special treat instead. Like when I’m having a bad day, or if he’s gotta go to the vet or -”

He was, Bucky was realizing, pressed against him, shoulder to shoulder, grounding him. 

“I’ve got a cat,” Bucky blurted, raising his head some and twisting to look up at Clint. Clint looked startled, then he grinned.

“Oh yeah? What’s she like?”

“Soft,” Bucky said without thinking. He cleared his throat. “Pure white and absolutely fluffy. Adorable as fuck. Loves me but hates Stevie, which is fuckin’ hilarious, cause he keeps tryin’ to win her over and she ain’t havin’ it.”

Clint chuckled. “Okay, that  _ does  _ sound a riot. Best part is, she probably doesn’t even hate him, but he’s tryin’ too hard.”

Bucky laughed, the feel of it still rough, but he was less shaky over all. “Y’know, I think you’re probably right.”

“You got a picture? I mean, I’m more of a dog person, but I like cats too,” Clint said, nudging Bucky’s shoulder lightly. 

“Do I ever,” Bucky said, reaching into his hoody for his phone and finally sitting up properly, using the wall as a backrest. “You’re gonna regret askin’, pal.”

“You show me yours, I'll show you mine,” Clint said with a snort. “Mutually beneficial.”

Somehow, this led to the two of them pressed even closer together, heads leaned against each other as they flicked through their phone albums to show off Alpine and Lucky, as it turned out the dog's name was. And Bucky was… he was feeling much calmer. He wouldn’t have believed it, but he was.

Huh.

How about that?

* * *

Sam was wandering the room slowly, observing everyone as they sat beside their cuddle partners. Bucky and Clint had a perfect view, both of them propping up a wall together in the back. 

If Clint was closer to Bucky than he ever had been before, Bucky wasn’t going to mention it.

“Whatever the reason,” Sam said, breaking the silence. “All of you are afraid to get close to people, to allow people to get close to you. You’re scared of what could happen if you do. Some of you think you don’t deserve it, or that you’ll taint whoever you touch -” Sam looked at Bucky and Bucky stiffened. Beside him, there was an indrawn breath from Clint. 

“Maybe you believe you’re bad luck, or unwanted, tolerated only for politeness sake. And of course, there’s the very real fear of how you’ll react if surprised, or if you’re caught in a bad moment. It’s a deep fear - and no lie, we all have it - that someone could actually get hurt just by being near you.” 

Sam looked around at the room, catching each one of them in the eye as he talked. The room was deadly silent around his words. “We’ve all been in combat. We all have instincts and reflexes that have been trained and honed to hurt people, to react first and think later. It ain’t an unjustified fear,” Sam admitted. 

“But here’s a secret. You don’t have to let all that control you. It ain’t easy, I won’t lie, but it can be done. You  _ can _ move on. Not to forget, but to learn how to live again.” Sam stopped at the front of the room and turned to face them all. 

“Now, we’ve talked about all this before, in our other sessions, and here, now, isn’t the place for more of that talk. The point is, you deserve this. Yes,  _ all  _ of you, I see you shaking your head James. Don’t make me tattle on you to Steve,” Sam said. 

Beside Bucky, Clint shook silently, bumping into Bucky as he whispered, the first actual words he’d said since he'd come in, “Dude, you got called out by the  _ teacher. _ ”

Bucky elbowed him. “Shut up,” he said, but he couldn’t help the small smile that curved up his face.

Sam didn’t stop talking, didn’t even seem to pay the little scuffle in the back of the room no never mind, despite having just put Bucky on the spot.

“No matter what you’re thinking, no one deserves to be cut off from other people, to be isolated and alone. We  _ need  _ each other. We need to  _ reach  _ out to people, to see and be seen, to touch and be touched.” He paused. “Deep down, we all  _ want _ to love someone and be loved, to belong. Romantic, platonic. Friends, family, lovers. It don’t matter the shape of it, just that we ain’t alone. We’re humans, we crave connections, and we do ourselves a disservice to cut them off before they get a chance to grow.”

“I know we’ve all done this before, but I want y’all to connect to each other right now, to reach out and take a hand. I want you to  _ feel  _ their skin against yours, feel their heat, the pulse of their blood as it moves through them. Find the calluses on fingertips, trace the lines and wrinkles in their palms, look for the scars. Our bodies tell a story without words, we don’t even need to know the story,” Sam said.

Bucky watched as the others, with little to no degrees of hesitation, did as Sam had asked.

He looked at Clint and raised an eyebrow at him almost challengingly and Clint rolled his eyes. A few seconds later had them involved in a thumb war and Bucky was finding out that Clint was the squirmiest, cheating little cheater he’d ever met.

Sam, after one pointed look and a slow shaking of his head, turned his back on their corner of the room and just let them at it.

None of them had quite advanced to cuddling yet, but Bucky found he was looking forward to each ‘cuddle’ session, the more he got to know Clint. A part of him felt guilty about that but then he reminded himself that he was  _ allowed  _ to make friends, and that it would probably do him good to have some that  _ weren’t  _ duty bound Avengers or crazy mad scientists.

All Starks, he was reasonably sure, qualified as crazy and/or mad. Didn’t mean he didn’t  _ like  _ Tony, but… yeah.

Sam and Steve certainly seemed proud of him and if Clint didn’t already make him want to show up, then that would have done it right there.

Of course, just as Bucky was really settling into this thing that he’d once objected strenuously too, maybe about two months in, Clint didn’t show up for nearly three weeks straight.

Bucky was beside himself with worry. Somehow, they’d never exchanged numbers - there’d been no need - and there was no way Sam could break confidence like that. 

“I’m just worried,” Bucky said to Steve for about the zillionth time. “I think his dog is all he’s got holding him together.” 

Alpine climbed into his lap and he ran a hand over her fur, feeling the purr rumbling up through his fingers.

“He’s gotta have someone else,” Steve pointed out. “Someone who cares, right? Didn’t you say he was tricked into going?”

“You mean, like how you and Sam conned  _ me  _ into going?” Bucky asked dryly.

“See? And we care about you, Buck,” Steve said earnestly, completely missing Bucky’s sarcasm. 

“Yeah, I get it, but…” he drummed his other hand on the arm of the sofa and sighed. “He  _ does  _ have someone, but I get the impression she’s not actually around much, ‘cause of her job.”

Steve sat beside Bucky, curling an arm around his shoulders. “That’s rough,” he said. He hesitated. “Look, I know you weren’t all that enthusiastic about this idea at the start, but I think it's been doing you good.”

Bucky shrugged, feeling a blush forming on his cheeks and he couldn’t even figure out why. “Maybe. But I ain’t tellin’ Sam that, he’ll think it was all him.”

“God forbid,” Steve said with a chuckle. “All you talk about when you come back is Clint this, and Clint that -” he stopped abruptly and Bucky tensed up, the sudden silence carrying a weight he’d long since come to know - and then came to know again. Alpine kneaded his stomach and purred, a calming warmth.

“You’re sweet on him,” Steve blurted out suddenly, taking Bucky - even as he’d tried to prepare himself for  _ anything -  _ completely by surprise. Bucky winced at having been found out at something he’d been trying  _ not  _ to admit to himself, even, but then he took a clearer look at Steve’s face.

“You ain’t mad?” He hated how broken that sounded, how tentative. Before HYDRA, before the war, he hadn’t been like that, he thought.

“Sweetheart, why would I be mad?” Steve said, pulling Bucky closer. Alpine mrrped and stretched, jumping down and giving them an offended look because they’d dared to disturb her slumber. “What do you remember from before, from during the war?”

Bucky shrugged, shifting them both against the couch with the movement, wondering what that had to do with anything. “I dunno, enough to paint a picture, I suppose.”

“Hmm…” Steve said thoughtfully. His words seemed careful picked, slow as they were to come out. “You remember Peggy, though, right?”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed. “Remember she saw you for you, not the package, before  _ and _ after.”

“You loved her for that, and for the fact that she didn’t take any shit from anybody,” Steve said softly.

“I think,” Bucky said, pushing at the edges of his memory. “She reminded me of you, in some ways. The tough act, the big heart.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, you used to complain about us being two peas in a pod, but that she had more style.”

Bucky snorted, a knot in his chest starting to relax as trickles of memories came through with each word.

“And you didn’t get mad at me for falling in love with her,” Steve whispered. “We’ve done this before, Buck. You an’ me an’ her. If this Clint is someone you want to be with -”

“Don’t even know him, really,” Bucky muttered, cheeks flushing.

“Then  _ get _ to know him, find out if he’s interested in you, then find out if he’s okay with the potential of  _ more _ than you and we’ll go from there,” Steve said, his fingers carding through Bucky’s hair and scratching over his scalp soothingly.

“You make that sound so easy,” Bucky mumbled, nuzzling into Steve’s chest and finally letting himself relax completely into his arms.

Steve chuckled. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. I have faith.”

Glad one of us does, Bucky thought. 

* * *

Clint showed back up a week later, which did much for Bucky's peace of mind. Bucky had gotten there first, claiming their usual space at the back, when Clint had slunk into the room. The second Bucky’s eyes had landed on Clint, a tension inside him released and he could breathe a little easier.

“Welcome back,” Sam said. He nodded towards Bucky. “James has been worried about you.”

Scratching at his head awkwardly, Clint nodded, though his face looked like he didn’t believe Sam for a second. With an odd, nervous look, he made his way to the back of the room and joined James. Bucky let him settle in before speaking.

“Everything okay?”

Clint shrugged, then slumped sideways into Bucky and - if Bucky wasn’t imagining it - relaxed a little, a soft sigh escaping his lips. Something warm pushed at Bucky, as the thought occurred to him that his presence was helping Clint in some, small way.

Still, he couldn’t help his eyes roving over Clint, checking him over and noting the various bruises and bandaids he’d acquired since he’d last been there, and there was a flash of purple hiding under his unkempt hair. More bandages? Bucky wanted to ask again, but Clint looked so comfortable, as if this were the first bit of peace he’d had in who knew how long, that Bucky didn’t want to interrupt that.

The chairs had been upgraded to couches by the third session but Bucky had resolutely avoided even looking at them.

Clint, it seemed, was of like mind, but now Sam was looking at Bucky expectantly.

“If you’re not ready to cuddle, that's okay,” Sam said. Bucky stared, narrowing his eyes at Sam. Sam continued on, Clint oblivious, the others watching Sam nervously. “But you’ve been sitting close, holding hands from the safety of your chairs and I promise, it’s no harder to do from the couches.”

No one moved and Sam looked a little like a kicked puppy.

“Fuck me,” Bucky sighed. He nudged Clint. “How do you feel about being our anti-social selves, but on something a little more comfortable? Just so’s he can stop looking like that?”

Clint shrugged. “Eh, I guess it don’t matter where we sit,” he said, the first words he’d said since he’d showed up. His voice was scratchy and rough and Bucky wondered if he’d been sick. He had the sudden urge to tuck a blanket around the guy and ply him with chicken noodle soup.

Standing up, Clint moved with Bucky over to one of the couches and, as if that broke a dam, the others started to drift over as well–a little bit like Alpine, Bucky realized. The way that she would approach something like it was only a peripheral concern, not her real objective, even when it was.

Sam's face filled with relief.

The couches were second hand - possibly even third or fourth hand - dug up from who knew where, despite the fact that Tony could have probably gotten Sam some good shit. They were beat up, with mismatched cushions, patches and duct tape and all together, rather sad looking and a bit broken down.

A little bit like some of them, maybe. and suddenly Bucky realized that was probably why Sam  _ hadn' _ t picked up something glossy and obviously new.

Because Sam was good at what he did, and he knew that anything too new like that might be a bit much for some of his vets. Clint, Bucky had a feeling, wouldn't have even gone near the couch no matter how much Bucky had cajoled if they'd looked brand new. He wouldn't have been at ease at all, and Bucky - hell, he knew that from experience, from his first days in the tower. Feeling a little like he didn’t  _ deserve  _ to go near Tony’s furniture, even though he knew it was stupid.

So when Bucky sat on the couch, he really didn't expect much from their appearance and yet... appearances were deceiving, weren't they? Because they  _ proved _ to be decidedly solid and comfortable despite how bad off the couches looked.

Bucky was both supremely surprised by this knowledge and ashamed for doubting Sam.

Clint fell asleep on Bucky almost as soon as they hit the couch. Bucky curled an arm around him protectively, glaring at Sam when he passed close by and raised an eyebrow at the sight. Bucky upgraded that to flipping him off when Sam took a picture.

That would be going to Steve, later, he was sure.

Wait… was that ethical? Bucky didn't really give a damn himself. He knew Sam wasn't going to just drop the photo at the closest newspaper, but Clint… he might have an objection or two about that. If he knew about it. Bucky found himself torn about whether or not he should say something.

Bucky resolved to bring it up in a less public setting with Sam at his earliest convenience, and then settled in. His revelation that he was sweet on Clint - and that Steve knew  _ and  _ didn’t mind - eased something in Bucky. 

* * *

Bucky didn’t want to admit it, but Sam may have been right about the cuddling therapy. 

Going back, week after week - when Avenger work didn’t get in the way - was something he was  _ really  _ looking forward to, and yes, part of that was Clint but also… also, he’d noticed he didn’t flinch or freeze as much if strangers got too near him. And that… that was something.

That was very  _ much  _ a something.

And, if Bucky didn’t lose his nerve, he was going to  _ try  _ something else as soon as this session ended. Sam was talking about changing up their partners, instead of letting each of them get too attached to one person as that wouldn’t help so much in the long run, but Bucky didn’t want to lose the time he was able to spend with Clint.

The session broke up and Clint lingered, long limbed and wrapped around Bucky like a koala. Finally, he sighed, and he stretched, then stood, still stretching. Bucky's eyes caught on the sliver of skin his shirt revealed during the stretch and his fingers itched to reach out and touch. He shook his head. Control yourself, Barnes.

He stood, following Clint to the door and took a breath, than another, gearing up to - 

“Hey, uh,” Clint turned suddenly, nearly bowling Bucky over so close were they. Clint rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry, sorry. But um, wanna grab a beer and some pizza?”

Bucky blinked at him slowly, not expecting the sudden invitation and Clint turned red and sheepish, turning away and Bucky couldn’t have him believing whatever it was he was believing - that Bucky didn’t want this? Fuck, of course he did.

“I’d love to,” Bucky said, biting off the sweetheart before it could slip out of his mouth. He didn’t know exactly where Clint stood, just yet. Was this invitation between friends, or was it something more?

Clint beamed at him, such a bright and wide smile that actually reached his tired looking eyes, and it took Bucky’s breath away. 

“Great, I know a place, if you don’t mind a bit of a trip. It’s got the  _ best  _ pizza, swear to god,” Clint said, quickly followed by a soft curse. “No, of course that’d be stupid. It’s a long way to go just for pizza. We can go somewhere else, if you know a place around here?”

Bucky chuckled, placing a finger over Clint’s lips and  _ didn’t  _ take note of how soft, if a little beat up from lip biting, those lips were. “Don’t got nowhere else to be. Lead the way.”

The smile, that had faded some as Clint second guessed himself, brightened once more and Bucky was again lost in how truly gorgeous he was. Some might say he had a type, blond hair, blue eyes, and yet they were so different on a fundamental level that Bucky couldn’t place.

Bucky followed Clint in a near daze, after flipping off Sam on the way out the door when Sam raised his eyebrows at him. He was absolutely bewitched by Clint, and the walk, followed by a long and noisy subway ride and another long walk passed in no time. 

As soon as they stepped off the subway in Brooklyn, Clint seemed to relax. Everywhere they went was the kind of familiar that niggled at Bucky’s mind, the itch of memories trying to fill in the gaps. Normally, this would set him on edge, but Clint so obviously knew where he was going, was just as obviously known around the neighborhood, that Bucky was distracted from it as Clint pointed things out on the walk.

Soon enough, Clint led him to an older brick building that boasted the finest beers on tap and the best pizza in all New York. They were in a back booth, side by side, before Bucky knew it.

Away from Sam’s eyes, and with Steve’s approval ever present in his mind, Bucky relaxed in a way he hadn’t in a long time, the two of them chatting easily over greasy pizza and far too many beers and each trying to outdo the other with the craziest stories.

Not the classified ones, of course, nor anything that would give away Bucky as Bucky and not  _ James _ , but he had plenty of fodder with Steve as a friend.

Then at some point, Bucky turned, laughing hard as he leaned into Clint, and Clint was snorting inelegantly as he tried to muffle his own howls of laughter and Bucky was just helping, okay? That was it. That was the reason why he leaned forward and pressed their lips together.

It wasn’t because Clint’s lips had been distracting him all evening, or that he was already sweet and gone on the fella, as bad as he’d ever fallen for Steve.

It was pure tactics.

Clint froze, the laugh dying on his lips and Bucky had just enough time to think,  _ Oh God, I’ve well and truly fucked this up, _ before Clint’s lips moved, his body shifted and then he was pressing up against Bucky and kissing him back.

Oh… oh well that answered  _ that  _ question, Bucky thought, happily losing himself to the talented lips eagerly moving with his.

He had a moment of worry when Clint’s hands smoothed over his jaw and threaded upwards into his hair, of his hat coming off and baring him more fully to Clint’s view, but then the kiss was interrupted by the ring of his phone. The abrupt blaring, the sudden vibration in his pants, made Bucky jump a bit and the kiss ended.

Clint stared at him breathlessly and Bucky stared back in kind, but then his phone went off again and he winced, pulling it out of his pocket. He sighed when he saw the name and eased back from Clint.

“Sorry, gotta answer this,” Bucky said, feeling guilty. Clint nodded, not looking at all suspicious, though perhaps a little disappointed.. Keeping it quiet, Bucky ended the call as quickly as he could, stifling a sigh at Fury’s  _ wonderful  _ timing. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I gotta head back.”

“No problem,” Clint said easily. Then he blushed. “But uh, I wouldn’t mind another kiss for the road, and your phone number.”

Bucky grinned, slow and easy, feeling the charm dripping off his every word. “Yeah? I think I can manage both those things,” he drawled, easing in close and tipping his head towards Clint.

There was a bounce to his step that Bucky couldn't ever quite remember having before when he finally forced himself to leave Clint’s side.

* * *

He wasn't quite as buoyant when he got back to the tower and found a full on meeting happening. It was small, and the room they were using in Starks Tower for the purpose was large, but it was packed with several large and very stubborn personalities.

Fury and Coulson were almost glaring at each other, though Bucky could swear they hadn’t even started when he slipped into the room and sat beside Steve.

Ostensibly, the Avengers worked under Phil Coulson's guidance, but Phil worked under Fury, and Steve hadn’t quite forgiven Fury for manipulating him and Tony with Phil’s  _ supposed  _ death.

Phil, in turn, hadn’t forgiven Fury for destroying his mint collection of Captain America Trading Cards. Of all things to get mad about, Bucky wasn’t sure that was worth it. He had a feeling there was more to it than that.

All in all, Bucky was just glad  _ Tony  _ wasn’t there to add his ego into the mix.

The silence built far too thickly before Fury finally stood, making use of the screen and outlining their next mission. When all was said and done, Fury turned to face them, waiting for an answer. 

“I want to bring in a couple of consultants,” Phil said.

Immediately, Fury’s hackles rose. Impressive on a man without any hair, Bucky thought.

“Consultants? Not agents?”

“Yes.”

“Convince me.”

Phil handed over two folders and Fury took them. 

“Black Widow,” he hummed as he flipped through her folder. “Solid choice. I've worked with her before.” He moved to the next folder and flipped it open.

Then he snapped it shut and tossed it away from him and Bucky felt his eyebrows raise. He exchanged curious, wary looks with Steve.

“No,” Fury said flatly, returning to his seat.

“He’s the best and him and Romanov work together unlike anyone else,” Phil said. “If you’ll just look, their success rate when paired - “

“He was compromised,” Fury said, not even looking at the folder any more. Bucky jolted. “And even if he  _ wasn’t  _ retired, none of your other agents will even work with him anymore.”

“If we can get them, then we don’t  _ need  _ any other agents. Just them. They were the best,” Phil said, pushing the folder back towards Fury. Bucky and Steve’s heads swiveled back and forth at the unusually overt power play happening in front of them.

“Exactly. Were. Past tense,” Fury said. He stabbed at the cover of the file. “He’s been out of the game for how long? Over three years. The answer is no.” He steepled his hands together and leaned back in his chair, putting on a deceptive appearance of relaxation that Bucky had learned to see through over the past few months.

“Hawkeye has information we need. Experience in this area that the other agents are lacking in.”

Bucky felt Steve stiffen beside him and wondered what he knew.

“ _ The Avengers _ can handle it,” Fury said stubbornly.

Finally, Steve spoke up. “While I might agree that the team can handle most things, it usually helps to have all the facts, sir. If Agent Coulson thinks his expertise is needed, then I think we should at least talk with him.”

Fury glowered and Phil’s face, for about a millisecond, looked triumphant before it composed itself again. Bucky knew if he’d blinked, he’d have missed it. He didn’t think Fury had either.

“Fine. But on your heads be it. You’ve been warned.” Fury smiled. “But I have a feeling he won’t show in any case.”

“We’ll see,” Phil said.

* * *

Bucky waited till they were back in their rooms in Avengers Tower before cornering Steve. 

“All right, punk, what do you know?”

“Hawkeye, Black Widow - I know them, or well, of them. When I was a week out of the ice, that disaster in New York happened. Remember?”

Bucky waved it off. He remembered  _ about  _ it, insomuch as he knew everything there was to know about Steve Rogers, but it was something he’d learned after the fact. And one thing he knew - whatever happened, nobody was telling the full tale.

“Aliens, gods,” Steve shook his head. “Black Widow was with us briefly. Lost track of her after the fight on the Helicarrier. Her partner had been compromised -”

“Hawkeye,” Bucky supplied, perfectly able to put together the crumbs Phil and Fury had laid out. The name sounded familiar for another reason. He shook it off.

Steve nodded, then looked at Bucky apologetically. “Loki, Thor’s brother, had mind controlled a bunch of folks with some sort of scepter. He was one of them. Hawkeye and Selvig were Loki’s best assets during that entire situation. Together, they did a lot of damage. Selvig, by building the device to bring the aliens here, and Hawkeye making it possible. He was the one that almost took out the helicarrier. Black Widow fought him and went after him when he escaped. I never actually met the man. But when he shook off the mind control, he didn’t take it well, from what I hear.”

Bucky winced. “Jesus.” 

He sat down heavily on one of the couches. Steve sat with him, shoulders brushing together. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I didn’t think… I thought it would strike too close to home, and it wasn’t like you were ever going to meet him.”

“And of course, none of this ever made it into the news,” Bucky said hoarsely, sympathy and understanding for a man he’d never met filling him.

Steve barked out a laugh. “Of course not. Didn’t want the people to lose faith in their government agencies, didn’t want to scare them anymore than they already were. Besides, you heard what Fury said. His own people wouldn’t work with him anymore and they  _ knew  _ it wasn’t his fault. Could you imagine his life after it came out? How folks might hound him? Persecute him? He didn’t deserve that.”

Bucky’s heart almost exploded and he slumped over sideways into Steve. “Like me? God, ya got a real soft heart, Stevie.”

“Like you don’t?” Steve said, wrapping an arm around Bucky’s shoulder and pulling him in tight. “Tell me about this Clint, again?”

“Asshole,” Bucky muttered, blushing into Steve’s shirt.

* * *

It didn’t take all that long to set up the meeting with Hawkeye and Black Widow. They were due to arrive early the next morning and Bucky was surprised Hawkeye agreed to it, considering he was retired and Fury’s adamant belief that he wouldn’t even show up.

But soon enough, he was back in that same meeting room and JARVIS had announced that the two agents were on their way up. Bucky spared a thought for Clint, wishing he’d been able to do more than exchange a few quick texts, when the door opened up.

“Nat,” Phil said, standing with a smile as a red haired woman entered the room. 

“Phil, it’s good to see you again,” Nat answered, smiling back at him.

“Likewise,” said Phil, reaching out with both arms. She obliged, hugging him as Steve and Bucky just watched. “You know, you don’t have to be a stranger.”

“Well, it’s a full time job, keeping this one out of trouble,” she said, stepping back and Bucky’s eyes went wide when he noticed the second person who had come through, slouched and hunched over, and he recognized  _ Clint  _ of all people. “Though I wouldn't mind passing that off if the right person or persons came along.” Bucky was so caught up in staring at Clint with open mouthed astonishment, he wasn’t entirely sure if he imagined her eyes flicking towards him and Steve specifically as she said that.

_ Clint _ was  _ Hawkeye?  _

“I heard about Bedstuy. Nasty business,” Phil agreed, the two of them continuing to talk as if Bucky’s mind hadn’t just frozen and skipped in place like a record scratching. Phil looked at Clint. “You could have come to me, Clint. I like to think we’re still friends, and friends ask each other for help. I would have helped.”

A haunted, broken look passed over Clint’s face, but he didn’t say anything, just gave a small grunt and looked away. Phil looked sad, resigned.  _ What the hell was going on?  _ Bucky wondered.

“That’s not Clint’s way,” Nat said gently. “Especially if he’s feeling guilty about something.”

Clint’s face turned sharply to glower at her. “I can leave, if it’s easier for you all to talk about me.”

“Please, stay,” Phil said. “Let me introduce you - “ 

Phil gestured with his arm, sweeping it towards Bucky and Steve, and Nat and Clint followed the movement inevitably. Clint’s eyes, Bucky was pleased to see, were just as shocked as Bucky felt. Nat didn’t betray anything, though she inclined her head at Steve.

“Rogers,” she said.

“Romanov,” Steve answered. “Glad to see you well.”

“You’ve been busy since New York,” she said. “It suits you.”

Phil nodded approvingly as she took a seat, Clint hovering behind her before finally sliding into one of his own, his eyes still on Bucky, though occasionally flicking over to Steve and back again. There was something in his eyes Bucky wasn’t sure he liked, something akin to betrayal.

“Yes, well, for those of you who  _ haven’t  _ met yet,” Phil went on, “Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes these are Agents Natasha Romanov and Clint Barton, also known as Black Widow and Hawkeye, respectively. Nat, Clint, these are -”

“Everyone knows who they are, Phil,” Clint cut in. His voice was hoarse and his words terse. “And I’m retired, so cut it with the Agent shit.”

A throat cleared and everyone turned to see Fury striding in, face stern. “Coulson.” Fury’s voice was flat, his eyes disapproving and judging. “I see things are going… well.”

Bucky bristled and stood. “You know what, if that’s your attitude towards him for something beyond his control, then it’s obvious I’m only being tolerated on this team for Steve’s sake.”

“That is a completely different situation, Barnes. You do  _ not  _ know what you’re talking about,” Fury snapped. “Now, sit your ass back down. We’ve got a mission to plan.”

Suddenly fuming - at Fury’s attitude and his hypocrisy, at Clint’s dismissiveness of Bucky, when he’d thought they were  _ friends  _ at least, or perhaps more after last night's kiss - Bucky stormed out of the room, flipping Fury off on his way out.

* * *

Bucky had been expecting Steve, but it was actually Clint that found him on the roof of Stark Tower.

“What the hell was that?” Clint demanded, almost as soon as Bucky had turned and caught sight of him.

“Someone had to call him out on his shit,” Bucky said. “What he’s been thinkin’, it ain’t right.”

“I don’t need you to come to my rescue,” Clint snapped, stalking towards Bucky, then around, as if he couldn’t decide how close to get, what was safe anymore.

Bucky threw his hands up in the air. “You’re as bad as Stevie,” he growled. “Why can’t either of you just accept that other people  _ care  _ about you? And when people  _ care _ , they like to  _ help.” _

Clint faltered, the bravado in his face flickering away to show Bucky how it had been a cover all along.

“Some people aren’t  _ worth  _ that,” Clint said finally. “ _ I  _ ain’t worth that.”

Far below them, Bucky could hear the faint sounds of New York traffic, as the wind tugged at his hair and they stared at each other. All those broken bits of Clint that he’d glimpsed at their sessions were in full swing today but then…

Today would be a lot to deal with.

“What if I disagree?” he asked. Clint shook his head violently, the broken look suddenly turning into a glare..

“God, all this time… I can’t  _ believe _ ...” Clint let out a harsh laugh that cut Bucky to the quick. He ran a hand over his face, the other fisted on his hip. For all the world, a relaxed pose -

Bucky could see white knuckles.

“All this time, you were…” Clint flapped a hand in his direction. “And he’s… was all this a  _ game  _ to you?” He looked like he wanted to ask something else, but his courage had failed him.

“I didn’t lie to you, sweetheart,” Bucky said gently, ignoring the mercurial shift of Clint’s thought patterns, how he went from thinking Bucky was overprotective to conniving in a heartbeat. Man had been a spy, once. From that  _ alone  _ he’d have trust issues. Bucky knew there was more to it than that, more even just the addition of Loki, things Clint had hinted at but never outright said.

Clint’s whole body seemed to be yearning towards Bucky, but his face was hard. His eyes were confused. Bucky reached towards Clint and Clint took a step back, holding up his hand.

“Don’t,” he snapped. Bucky stopped immediately. Where was Steve? Where was Widow? If this was Clint’s friend that he was always talking about, he would have been sure she’d have come after Clint.

Guess it was left to him.

“Look, I'm kinda high profile. Gotta lot of blood on my hands, regardless of the reason. I’m  _ with _ Captain  _ goddamn _ America,” Bucky said. “If I go ‘round tellin’ people who I am, I’m just askin’ for trouble - on all sides. I didn’t tell you I was the Winter Soldier, but I didn't lie to you, Clint.”

Clint looked up and blew out a breath. Both hands rested on his hips now and he closed his eyes. It was silent way, way too long for Bucky’s liking.

“Okay, fine,” Clint said, his voice deceptively soft. “Guess you got me there. And James  _ is  _ your given name, I s’pose, even if history shows you never use it, but, I gotta ask...” he opened his eyes and looked at Bucky, fixing him in place with a penetrating glare. “ _ Did you know _ ?”

“If you mean, who you  _ really  _ are?”

Clint nodded jerkily.

“Not a goddamn clue.”

“So this,” Clint gestured between them, “It wasn’t just something SHIELD cooked up to soften me up?”

“For  _ what?”  _ Bucky asked. “I was  _ there _ because Stevie thought it would do me some good. I was just as shocked as you when you walked in that room today.”

“Cause I told them I’m never going back! James, I can’t do this,” Clint’s voice cracked. “I can’t!”

“Then  _ don’t _ ,” Bucky said, daring to step closer to Clint again. This time, Clint didn’t stop him, so he took another, then another, till one more step would have them colliding.

Bucky looked up into wide blue eyes that had always felt far, far too much like his own inner turmoil and finally he  _ knew. _

“If anyone’s gonna get this, if anyone’s gonna understand how much Loki took from you -”

Clint twitched violently at the name and made a wounded sound. God, Bucky never wanted to hear that sound outta him again. He nearly shuddered as it cut through him.

“Sweetheart, I wake up every damn morning and wonder, is this the day I’m gonna walk away?” Bucky admitted, finally saying aloud the thought he’d never dared tell anyone else, not even Sam or his therapist.

“Why don’t you? What keeps you going back into the fray?” Clint asked desperately.

“Steve,” Bucky said simply. “Punk does the stupidest shit when I'm not there to watch his back.”

That surprised a snort of laughter from Clint but behind Bucky there was a choking sound and Bucky closed his eyes. There he was. Talk about Steve’s Super Soldier Timing. Fuck. Bucky had never wanted Steve to know that. Hadn’t wanted him to know that if Bucky had a choice, he’d rather stay home than go out superheroing, but only if Steve did too, and he could never,  _ ever  _ ask Steve to stop.

Because Steve did good. Needed to be doing good. So Bucky would be there, having his back, and he wouldn’t ever blame Steve for something that was in his nature. But he’d vowed Steve would never find out, cause Bucky  _ knew _ the punk would just feel guilty as all fuck.

“Buck,” Steve whispered. “Jesus, Buck.”

“Steve,” Bucky sighed, turning so he could face Steve but still see Clint at the same time. He wasn’t equipped for this, for dealing with emotional crises, but here he was, at the center of two storms at once.

Clint’s eyes darted between them, caught like a deer in headlights with Steve blocking the doorway.

“Look, Steve and I – whatever you decide – we’ll back your play,” Bucky said, attempting to get them back to the real problem at hand – Clint. Bucky and Steve could talk about  _ his  _ involvement later – though he’d rather not, if truth were told. “But if it makes any difference, Coulson believes in you so much that he’s willing to go toe to toe with Fury over it.”

Clint looked far too broken when he choked out, “Why? God, I,” he ran a hand through his hair and turned away and back, knuckles white. “I  _ killed  _ Phil – or as good as!”

“From what I understand, that was no more you than the Winter Soldier was me,” Bucky said softly. “I did my damndest to kill Steve when Hydra had me, and yet, here I am.”

“With him,” Clint said, breathing hard. He shook his head. “I can’t – I need to think.”

“Then go think,” Steve said. “Bucky’s right. We’ll back your play. And uh…” he flushed. “Even if you decide to say no, I hope we can get together and meet properly, soon. Buck’s always talking about Clint from Sam’s cuddle therapy, and I’ve been waiting to meet you for a long while now. Ever since I figured out he was sweet on you.”

Clint’s eyes grew wide and he looked between Bucky and Steve in disbelief. “Are you guys for real?”

Bucky barked out a laugh. “Honestly, that’s something I have trouble answering or believing somedays myself.”

“Bucky –“ Steve looked at him with sad puppy dog eyes.

“Can it, Rogers,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes. “Stop being such a martyr.” Then he hesitated, looking towards the door and back at Clint. “What do you want to do? What do you want  _ us  _ to do?”

Clint’s posture had relaxed a little, hands coming off his head to rest on his hips, gaze downward. “I don’t know.”

His voice was soft and lost and Bucky reached for him again unthinkingly - Clint was his cuddle buddy, after all – and this time, Clint didn’t fight it or back away, just sank into Bucky’s hug with a little sigh. Hands gripping the back of Bucky’s shirt tight. Finally, Bucky picked up Clint’s now muffled voice.

“I don’t think I can do this again. I’m not ready. Don’t know if I ever will be.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to be,” Bucky said, combing his fingers through the short, spiky hair. “We’ll tell Fury and Coulson to fuck off.”

“Politely,” Steve interjected.

“ _ Maybe  _ politely,” Bucky said. “That’ll depend on them.” Clint snorted and pulled back and Bucky let his arms drop away. Clint looked over at Steve.

Taking a breath, Clint said, “Thank you, both of you,” then a little louder, “You can stop lurking, Nat.”

Bucky nearly jumped when the Black Widow melted into view out of the shadow of the stairwell. When the fuck had she gotten there?

“You were spying?” Steve asked, incredulity coloring his voice. Bucky rolled his eyes.

“It’s what I do,” she said. “And I wanted to make sure this moron was all right. Seems like you two had the matter well in hand though,” she said calmly. Then she spoke directly to Clint and Steve stared, not understanding the Russian she spoke. But Bucky did.

<I’m sorry, little bird. I didn’t really understand how much your soul was still hurting. I would never have tried to convince you to come back, otherwise.> He slumped forward and she tapped her head on his. A familiar gesture of comfort between two friends.

<I don’t blame you, Nat.>

<And we don’t blame you,> she said in return.

Clint snorted. “Not sure about that,” he said, switching back to English.

“Well, I don’t anyway, and neither does Phil.” She nodded at Steve and Bucky. “I’d hazard a guess that they not only wouldn’t blame you, but have a better understanding than most what you’ve gone through.” Despite the switch to English, Bucky didn’t think he and Steve were meant to hear, not with how soft she was speaking. But she hadn’t worked with them yet. Maybe she didn’t realize just how good their hearing was.

Clint shook his head at her, brows furrowed, like he hadn’t been able to hear it, despite being so close. She sighed, shaking her. “Later,” she said a little louder “Come on.”

He watched them go with a pang, afraid that it might be the last time he saw Clint. Then Steve turned to him.

“So…” Steve said. “You were right. He  _ is  _ cute.”

Bucky punched his arm and blushed. “Fucking punk.”

They walked to the door together and Steve grabbed the door handle, then paused. Bucky’s gut twisted. Here it came.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you said to Clint. We  _ are  _ going to talk about that.” Then he pushed the door open and walked through, leaving Bucky blinking after him with a grimace.

Well…

Shit.


	2. PART 2 - CLINT POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we are! done! i've been chomping at the bit to get this posted cause i've been so excited for it (and the picture that went with it!!)
> 
> this is where the story tried to go off the rails and i had to wrangle it back together. but i think i managed it ;D thank you for reading!
> 
> Also, thank you to lirael for taking a look for me and now i'm posting it before the battery on my laptop dies! as usual, please don't mind any problems brought upon by my broken shift key. i THINK we found all of them????? maybe....

Clint hopped the subway back to Bedstuy, mind still reeling from, well, everything. From the shock of finding out James was Bucky Barnes, that the guy he’d maybe been crushing on was with someone else (and that someone else was A) Captain America and B) Didn’t seem to care that Bucky might be crushing on Clint in return) combined with the sick dread in his stomach and the shake of his hands when he even  _ considered  _ going back out into the field –

Fuck, it was just all too much. He knew he was all sorts of messed up, but it wasn’t like they didn’t have another world class sniper on their hands and there really wasn’t much else Clint could bring to the table other than that. At least he could rest easy, knowing they had someone as good as James – well, Bucky, he supposed – to fill that gap.

The ride soothed him a little, but he didn’t really relax until he reached his apartment building, walked through the door and Lucky jumped on him in greeting.

“Hey boy,” Clint cooed at him, ruffling his fur as Lucky wriggled, attempting to lick every bit of Clint at once.

Suddenly, Clint’s knees gave out and he hit the floor, Lucky crawling into his lap. He wrapped his arms around the exuberant dog and the tears he’d bottled up  the whole way back without even realizing it broke free, dampening the dogs fur.

Lucky stilled, seeming to sense Clint’s agitation, and he leaned into Clint hard.

“Fuck,” Clint sniffed. “I’m such a fucking mess.”

Clint slumped on the floor for a while, turning off his aides, giving Lucky head and ear scritches and ignoring his phone until he felt capable of breathing easy again and getting back up. He made dinner on autopilot, thinking over the mission he’d turned down. Nat had convinced him to go to the meetup, and he’d  _ thought  _ he was ready, to at least hear Fury out and face Coulson. 

But seeing James had thrown him off kilter, two worlds colliding that hadn’t been meant to collide, and it was like the cork had popped. Clint  _ hadn’t  _ been ready to face Coulson,  _ or  _ Fury, and the very idea of going back out…

He’d almost thrown up on the spot.

Only James storming out of the room,  _ defending  _ Clint like that, had helped him keep it together, had given Clint something else to focus on.

He was ashamed of his behavior, the accusations he’d thrown at James. He knew better. He  _ knew  _ James better than that. But James… 

When Clint finally looked at his phone, he saw a missed call from Nat, another from Coulson, and a handful of texts from James.

Thumb shaking, he opened the texts only to find that James wasn’t angry, merely concerned, and checking in with Clint on whether or not he wished to stay in contact.

_ I’d understand if you don’t. _

Swallowing, Clint texted back, relief pricking at him when he realized that nothing had changed between James and him, except that now their world was bigger. It included Steve, but Clint wasn’t feeling steady enough yet to meet Captain America - never mind that he already had.

* * *

To say Clint was surprised when he found Steve slumped on the front stoop of his apartment building would be an understatement. It had been nearly 3 weeks since Clint had gone to the tower, and several days since the last time he’d talked to Bucky, but he’d thought things had been okay between them.

Was he about to get the shovel talk from Captain America? The stay the fuck away from his fella speech?

“Rogers?” he asked, frozen a few steps away.

Steve looked up and Clint blanched. He looked like shit – both physically and emotionally.

“Clint – I’m sorry. This is unprofessional of me, I know. I got your number out of Bucky’s phone and looked you up. I know I shouldn’t have, but I thought you deserved to know.”

“I ain’t coming back, and you promised to support that decision,” Clint growled, pointing at Steve accusingly, the sick feeling of betrayal thick in his throat.

Steve held up his hands. “I know, and I did – still do! It’s not that. It's – “ he stopped and gritted his teeth, like he was holding back strong emotion.

Fuck his life.

Clint sighed and pushed past Steve who stood abruptly at his approach. He turned as Clint went past, wringing his hands. It was clear something had upset Steve and maybe Clint was an asshole for letting it drag on, but  _ Steve  _ was the one who’d invaded his private life. Clint unlocked the door and Lucky bounded inside. Clint turned to Steve. “You coming?”

“What?” Steve looked so freaking lost Cint felt bad for being an asshole when he’d known already he was going to invite Steve up.

“Whatever’s got you in a tizzy is big and probably best not to be discussed here.”

“I’m not in a tizzy!” Steve protested in offense. Good. Hopefully that would irk him enough to stave off everything till they got to Clint’s floor and he’d had a chance to brace himself.

The climb didn’t take long, even with Lucky’s shenanigans and soon enough, Clint was staring at the liquor and wished he dared fortify himself with it. “Okay, what’s so important you broke who knows how many privacy laws to track me down?”

“Something happened and I thought… you should know. And I wasn’t sure anyone else would think to. Or would if they did.” Steve was still wringing his hands. Clint wracked his brains. What the hell could it be?

Fuck –

“Did Loki-?” Fear pounded in Clint and he hoped Steve didn’t hear the tremor in his voice.

“Thank god, no,” Steve barked out. “Nobody needs the shit show that would be.”

“Nat –“ Clint’s hands trembled as he went down the list of possible reasons Captain fucking America was in his living room right now. He turned, busying himself with the coffee pot, to hide his hands.

“No! Nothing’s happened to her.” Steve shook his head. “It was… it was Bucky. He’s… and you’re friends. Maybe, maybe more? And I just thought…”

Steve stood and paced.

“Fuck, I don’t know what to do.” Lucky pushed up against Steve’s legs and Steve sat back down abruptly, sinking into Clint’s couch, burying his face in his hands.

Clint couldn’t breathe. Could barely force himself to speak. “Dead?” he asked, his voice shaking so much now, Steve would have to notice it, if he weren’t so shook up himself.

“No. We don’t know,” Steve said, his voice muffled. Even Clint’s aides struggled with it.

“Rescue mission?”

“A rescue mission is not sanctioned at this time,” Steve intoned with an air of mimicry. “Fuck, I can’t believe this is happening again. I let him down. Again.”

Clint swallowed at the familiar swell of guilt, seeing it echoed in Steve’s eyes.

“Did he tell you? Bucky and I fought about him being on the team. I didn’t want him to feel he  _ had  _ to do something he hated, just because I did. And now he’s… he’s gone and I don’t know what to do. All I know is I can’t give up – I’ve failed him before. I’m never letting that happen again.”

“No offense, Rogers, cause I don’t really know you, but you really gonna listen to Fury on that one?”

Steve looked up, jaw set and face suddenly determined. “Fuck, no,” he bit out.

Clint laughed. “God, who knew Captain America had such a foul mouth?”

Steve’s face held a wry grin for a split second. “I was the bane of PR during the war.”

“I bet you were,” Clint agreed. “So, this rescue mission you’re totally not going on, who’s going with you?”

Steve reeled back. “Nobody.”

Clint stared at him in disbelief. “Bullshit.”

Steve glared. “I’m serious. Just me. I’m not risking anyone else. Not only is it unsanctioned, it’s unsafe. I’ve already lost Bucky.” Steve choked and closed his eyes. Clint sighed, stopped fiddling with the coffee machine and grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge instead, walking over to him. He set the cold bottle against Steve’s shoulder, making his eyes open.

“Take it. Looks like you could use it.”

“I can’t even get drunk,” Steve said absently, his hand automatically reaching for it.

Shrugging, Clint said, “That’s not what it’s for.”

Frowning, picking at the label, Steve accepted the words and the beer and Clint counted it as a win.

While they drank, Clint leaned back on the island between his kitchen and the living room and pulled out his phone, making it look idle when he was really sending a text to a very specific person. Steve finished the beer slowly, Lucky demanding pets. Good dog. Clint couldn’t let Steve go now, not when he knew what he was planning – or not planning as the case may be.

Clint knew what he needed to do, and instead of the churning gut fear he’d been hounded by for the last several years, now all he felt was calm and collected. It wouldn’t last. He was absolutely sure it wouldn’t, but in this moment, it was enough. It had to be.

“So uh, going on a rescue mission by yourself… I mean, I know you’re Captain America and all, but even if you have to go the whole, lone wolf method, can you accept a little help in the planning department?”

Steve looked up at him sharply. “What?” Then he shook his head. “Better not. Plausible deniability, should anything go wrong.”

“Then we don’t let anything go wrong,” Clint said.

“Nobody can guarantee that, and I can’t let anyone get in trouble on my behalf.”

“What, you’re allowed to stick your neck out for people but nobody’s allowed to reciprocate?” Clint snorted. “Come off it, cap. You’re allowed to accept help.”

“It’s not like that,” Steve protested weakly. Lucky shoved his face into Steve’s lap, whining when Steve’s hands went idle. Reflexively, Steve’s hands moved again, scratching Lucky behind his ears. Thankfully, though the argument was shelved - for now - Lucky delayed Steve long enough that when Clint’s door opened and Natasha stepped inside, Steve was still there.

He stood up in surprise, Lucky letting out a huff of displeasure at being forgotten. He padded over to his doggie bed and settled in, head on his paws, watching everyone hopefully.

Clint watched him, feeling a little detached. 

Maybe what this secret meeting needed was pizza?

“Romanoff?” Steve asked, obviously startled by her presence.

“A little birdie told me you plan to defy Fury without me,” she said, walking over to Clint’s island and settling in beside him. Steve sent Clint a betrayed look which Clint returned with a sheepish shrug, but Clint didn’t regret reaching out to Nat at all.

“You’re not going to stop me,” Steve said defiantly.

“Of course not. We’re going to join you.”

Folding his arms over his chest, Steve growled out, “No, not happening.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” Nat said with deceptive softness. Steve blanched.

“I can’t ask you for – “ Steve tried again, his voice losing conviction the longer she stared him down. Clint sipped his beer and wondered if he should come to Steve’s rescue. As much as Steve was Captain America, he was still a kid – at least compared to Clint, age wise – and he’d suffered a big blow. As far as Clint understood it, Steve didn’t have very many real friends to lean on when shit hit the fan, as it was doing now. James was probably his biggest support but it was his very absence that had Steve fumbling for solid ground.

Suddenly, all Clint wanted to do was hug Steve. But he wasn’t entirely sure that was appropriate. They were, basically, still strangers, after all.

He didn’t need to be a spy to see all this. What Steve managed to keep off his face was still visible in his eyes, but right now, he was an open book. Clint could see that Nat saw it too, and sympathy and understanding flashed in her eyes.

“You didn’t.” She crossed the space between them and put a hand on his arm. “Whether Yasha – Barnes - remembers it or not, we were friends, once. I can no more leave him behind –  _ again _ – then you can.”

Clint shivered. There was a weight behind her words, attached to the past she rarely talked about.

She turned away again, returning to his side, setting a bag on the island and pulling out a laptop. “This is the info Stark managed to dig up. Shield should have gone to him in the first place.”

Steve dredged up a smile, but it was fragile. “They  _ hate  _ dealing with Stark.”

She grinned. “I know. It’s because he doesn’t listen to the rules.” She gave him a sly look. “A little like a few other people I know.” The sly looked turned to include Clint and he coughed and put his empty bottle down.

Snorting, Steve joined them at the island as the laptop loaded files on the screen. “That doesn’t explain why they deal with me. I’m just as likely to break a rule as he is.”

“True,” she conceded. “But Starks’ just… a little louder about it in ways SHIELD doesn’t really like. And he’s got a lot of money to throw around if he needs to.”

The files finished loading and even Clint leaned in to get a better look.

“Okay, here’s what we know…” Nat said, proceeding to walk them through it. Clint couldn’t help but notice the absence of even a token protest that she was filling in a civilian – Clint – on classified information.

A few hours later meant they had a semblance of a plan, but it was missing a few things. Like long distance support and air support. Stark was out of the question. If he went off the grid, Shield would get suspicious.

That was partially solved when Steve pursed his lips together and looked at Clint. “I think I have another option. Do you mind if I let someone else know where I am and ask them to meet us here?”

“Are they going to come in here, guns blazing, demanding their national icon back?” Clint asked.

Steve barked out a laugh. “Fuck, no. He might flip off anyone who did, though.”

“Go for it.”

Which was how, a mere hour after  _ that _ , Sam – the guy who led the freaking cuddle sessions! – was sitting in Clint’s living room with his own beer, peering at the laptop while Clint finished his coffee he got around to actually making.

While they got Sam caught up to speed, Clint made to slip out of the room. Nat caught his eye and her hands moved – albeit a little clumsily. Sign was still new to her, though she’d picked it up fairly quickly once she’d started. It was Nat. Clint wouldn’t expect anything less.

_ Where are you going, little bird? Is everything all right? _

_ I’m just going to get something – I’ll be right back. _

He made it up to the loft and let himself take a breather before sighing and opening his closet. He dug around for the duffel he’d kept in the back, always ready, though it had gotten a little buried as time wore on. Then he pulled his bow case from under the bed and wiped the dust off it. He brought it all back downstairs, dropping it on the coffee table with a thud that caught everyone’s attention. The duffel, not the bow case.  _ That _ he treated with care.

He hadn’t touched even his  _ regular _ bow since the incident last year that cost him most of his hearing. It still hung on the wall above his couch.

This was his  _ other  _ bow, the one from SHIELD, that he’d helped design. The one he hadn’t touched since he’d walked away.

Clint swallowed, ran his fingers down the hidden curves of it, then picked it up and gave his wrist the flick it needed, the bow snapping into shape.

“Barton,” Steve said slowly, his voice careful. “What are you doing?”

“What’s it look like, cap?” Clint didn’t look up at him. The bow felt both right and foreign in his grip.

It brought back meditative states, accomplishments, the skill he’d been most proud of, that he’d spent years perfecting even after he left the training of the Swordsman. It brought back the thing he’d built his whole goddamn life around and on.

It also brought shame, fear, blue and death. Screaming in his own mind. Helplessness. He took a long, slow, careful breath and tried to focus past all of that.

“You said you couldn’t do this.”

“I say a lot of things. Most of it shit. Just ask Nat.” Clint blew out a breath and brought his bow to his head, closing his eyes and centering himself. There was a murmur from across the room, too low for his aides to pick out well. “It’s the real reason Fury didn’t want to work with me, though it was sweet of James to try and defend my honor. Not that I deserve it, but it was real sweet, just the same.”

“Clint…” Now Steve just sounded uncomfortable. Clint opened his eyes and looked at him questioningly. “I didn’t come here with the intent to guilt you into helping.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m still gonna. We’re gonna get James back.”

“Bucky… he’d… he’d want you to call him Bucky,” Steve said, meeting his eyes. They swirled with pain and hope and something Clint couldn’t really define, though he’d once been real good at reading people. Not as good as Nat, maybe, but pretty good.

“Let’s let him tell me that when we get him back, yeah?” Clint said, losing himself in Steve’s eyes. The man looked so lost, but determined not to show it.

Steve nodded, hope starting to push through, changing the color of his eyes, a small smile forming. “Yeah, sounds like a plan.”

* * *

Stark's info wasn’t the only thing he provided the little rogue team of four. Coms that weren’t SHIELD issue, and transportation that wouldn't raise an eyebrow over who was on board and the weaponry they carried was definitely a bonus.

Clint flicked through the data, quickly getting accustomed to the holo tech. 

Natasha signed at him and he nodded. “Yeah, I know these guys. Probably why Coulson wanted me in on this to start with, but I'm afraid those bridges are burned.” Literally. He’d infiltrated this same op once, what they’d suspected to be an off shoot or attempt at resurgence of HYDRA and he’d blown the shit out of it on his way out. Maintaining his cover at that point wasn’t even a concern, because they were  _ supposed  _ to be gone, dammit.

In retrospect, HYDRA had probably withdrawn as many of the more sensitive projects they could without it being suspicious, once they’d gotten wind of Coulson's little project. The perks of being a secret bad guy clique hiding in the ranks of the best spy agency on the planet, Clint supposed. They got everything they needed to stay one step ahead of everyone else.

Till captain America stepped in and ruined their days. 

“So what do you suggest?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, and please suggest something other than banging on the front door,” Sam pleaded. “Not all of us are super soldiers.”

Steve had the good sense to look sheepish at least. It was cute.

“In my defense, the bad guys never think folks are gonna come at them that way.”

“Yeah, but if these guys are any good, and they are, then they’ll know you operate that way. They’ll be waiting for it,” Clint pointed out. He tapped the table as he read schematics. “However, without Stark, their automated defenses are going to be a shit show.”

“So what do you suggest?” Nat asked, sliding in beside him. “Infiltration?”

Clint shook his head. “Nah, they know who we are. That’ll never fly. I got a better idea.”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes. “And what, exactly, is your better idea?” Clint flinched, because he knew this was  _ not  _ going to go over well. “Clint?”

“Uh,” Clint scratched at the back of his neck and smiled at Steve as charmingly as he could.

Nat leaned back and stared at him knowingly. “We can’t go in the front door. Automated defenses are too much for sneaking in. We don’t have time or anonymity for a proper infiltration. That really only leaves one thing.”

Clint shrugged. “Fake capture. Become a prisoner and break out once inside.”

“Ah,” Steve said, eyes shifting as he did some calculating. “That’s pretty damn risky.”

“Yup,” Clint said. “And as I’m persona non grata around here, I’m the perfect cho -”

“Okay, so me, since I’m the best suited to the task-” Steve said, both of them grinding to a halt when they heard the other’s words.

“No, no way,” Steve protested. “I can’t let you put yourself in harm's way like that. You've already said it - they know you, they know what you’ve done. They’re going to be particularly vicious with you.”

“And they have no reason to believe you’d  _ ever  _ be captured as easily as you’d need to let them,” Clint pointed out. “And no reason to keep anyone else alive either, which means not Sam, not Nat. You, sure, because they’ve got a bargaining chip they know means the world to you. Me, they’ll want to teach a lesson. But of the two of us?  _ I'm _ the believable one here. It’s gotta be me. Plus, I’ve been here before. I know the fastest ways in or out once it’s time to go.”

Steve shook his head and began to pace the room, hands clenching into fists. The room was silent, Nat joining Sam on the other side of it as he checked over his wings, leaving Steve to Clint. Nat may not like the plan, but she got it.

“I don’t like it.”

“Well hell, you don’t  _ have _ to like it. That’s just plain stupid. And from what I hear, you’re stubborn not stupid. Look,  _ I  _ don’t like it either. But that’s what we’ve got to work with, and I’m pretty good at improvisation and getting out of tricky spots.”

Steve stopped pacing and came to a halt in front of Clint, pulling him up out of the chair to face him. Clint let him, Steve earnestly staring into Clint’s eyes, his hands hot brands on his shoulders. His mouth opened and closed a few times and Clint reached up, grabbing Steve’s arms in return.

“It’s okay, cap,” Clint said softly. “We’ll get James back and the two of you’ll be canoodling again before you know it.”

Something flitted across Steve’s face. He opened his mouth and hesitated, looking torn. “I -” 

Clint patted his arms, then gave a reassuring squeeze -  _ mmm… muscly - _ before starting to pull back. Steve’s fingers tightened on Clint, holding him right there and Clint’s gaze turned to one of surprise. Steve licked his lips nervously and Clint cursed himself for being weak when his eyes were drawn to the movement.

“Fuck it,” Steve blew out, leaned forward and laid one on Clint.

Clint stiffened in surprise. Holy fuck, was this seriously happening? His mind flew into a panic, because Steve was with someone else, with  _ James _ , and even though James had kissed him first before Clint has known who he was and that he  _ was  _ with someone, even though James had intimated that they were open to something more - 

Clint had a hard time believing it because hell, when had his life done anything good for him lately?

But Steve was persistent. He drew back a mere breath away from Clint’s lips, his eyes half lidded but tinged with nerves. “If this makes you uncomfortable, I’ll stop. But I already feel like I  _ know  _ you Clint, and you’re worth knowing. You’re putting everything on the line here for Bucky and I know he’d do the same for you. Bucky wants to try, all three of us and I - I want that too.”

Words locked up in his throat and when Steve’s eyes lost their shine, when he moved to pull away Clint surged forward to capture Steve in a kiss. He meant it to be gentle, a soft thing, something hopeful, a promise before Clint went off and did something that was, admittedly, really fucking stupid. 

It was anything but. 

Clint overbalanced and their lips slammed together and Steve gasped, mouth opening under Clint’s as their lips met with bruising intensity, no less a promise but far - very far - from gentle.

A cough had them breaking apart and Steve blushing lightly, but Clint didn’t think it was from any true embarrassment of having an audience. He trailed a hand down Clint’s cheek, catching on the light stubble Clint hadn’t gotten around to shave and Clint caught his hand, gave it a light squeeze, sent Steve a blinding smile and stepped back.

He took a breath. “Okay, let’s do this.”

* * *

The plan was simple.

Clint gets caught sneaking around. He could play the ‘out of the game’ bit for his rusty sneaking skills as he ‘accidentally’ tripped alarms, then stumbled around as he shot, missing the guards that came for him but somehow, coincidentally, hitting other strategic targets.

Such as other alarms, cameras, etc.

He made sure to hit enough guards in non vital places, close enough to do real damage if he’d actually been trying, making it look like the infamous Hawkeye was just off his game. The community hadn’t seen him in  _ years _ , and by now they all knew about Loki, even those who hadn’t been high up enough in SHIELD and HYDRA to know.

They fell for it, hook line and sinker.

They took his bow.

They took his coms - but didn’t see the aids nestled deeper in his ears (thank god for Stark and his ability to wip something up in a blink of an eye).

They patted him down, took anything else they deemed too dangerous to be left in the hands of even a broken down spy, and then promptly kicked him while he was down.

And a few more for good measure.

Thankfully, they didn’t know  _ why  _ he was here. They were expecting Captain America to come after James, not the man that had almost killed Steve and the rest of the Avengers before they could even form. So when Cap and Falcon kicked up a fuss on the perimeter, allowing Nat to come in the way Clint had cleared, they quickly lost interest in Clint and promptly tossed him in the nearest cell.

The one with the deadly assassin in it, the one that had been the bogeyman of every spy and assassin in the espionage game for  _ centuries _ , the Winter Soldier.

They probably figured Clint was so out of the loop that he didn’t know James had come in from the cold, had rebelled against his masters, against HYDRA. They were likely counting on him to be terrified to be sharing the cell with the killer known as the Winter Soldier.

Clint let himself be tossed, groaning theatrically as he hit the ground. Cruel laughter mixed with the slamming of the cell door, footsteps retreating. Clint waited, curled in on himself, listening, but the only sounds now came from the indrawn breath across the cell, the soft spoken words that Clint couldn’t make out.

Finally, he uncurled himself, wincing as he stretched to his full length and it pulled at his bruised - he  _ hoped  _ they were just bruised, but hey, he’d dealt with worse - ribs. The bad guys hadn’t even bothered chaining him up, and the cuffs on his wrists were ridiculously easy to break out of.

“Clint?” James called across the cell. There was a rattle as James tried to reach his side and the chains that held him to the wall thwarted him.

Turning to face him, Clint grinned at Bucky, the grin pulling at the cuts and bruises on his face. “Hey, James, fancy meeting you here!” he called cheerily, crawling over to reach for James. He was glad to see that James seemed to be well, aside from the being captured and chained to a wall bit. Whatever injuries he may have sustained during capture or subsequent torture hadn’t left a mark other than slightly torn clothes.

James’s eyes turned suspiciously bright as he reached for Clint with on arm, the other locked to his side, immobilized by forces unseen.

“Fuck, sweetheart, why are you here?”

“It’s a rescue mission?” Clint asked dubiously, hoping James wouldn’t take this part as badly as Steve had, and wincing at the pain speaking caused. Okay, maybe a cracked rib.

James carefully pulled Clint to him, running his hand along Clint’s body and checking him over gently. Clint let him, knowing James needed to reassure himself that Clint was (mostly) okay. Finally, his hands came to a stop. “Fuck,” James choked. “I never wanted you to… Fuck!”

“Wait, you’re giving me mixed signals here. Do you, or do you not, want to fuck at some point?” Clint asked, trying for a little levity.

“You seem very unconcerned about our predicament,” James said suspiciously, eyes narrowing much the way Steve's had when Clint had suggested there was an alternative plan.

Clint shrugged and looked away. “Well….”

James’s eyes widened. “You let yourself be captured on purpose, didn’t you?”

“All part of the plan,” Clint said, grinning at James.

“Was anyone else in on this plan?” James asked. Fuck, he was far too shrewd for Clint’s liking.

“Well, I mean,  _ yeah,”  _ Clint hastened to assure him. “Not that Steve was too keen on it but - ”

“You’re here with Steve?”

“Duh, who’d you think I’d be here with, Santa Claus? Cause he may have the red and white, but Santa’s a little lacking in blue.”

“But, you let yourself be captured.” James’ voice was so soft that if he wasn’t right next to Clint’s ear, Clint would have lost it. “Why?” His voice cracked.

“Because it was the fastest way to reach you,” Clint said, reaching into the inner lining of his shirt and pulling out a Stark toy designed to give James back the use of his arm. If James had that, getting out of here would be a  _ snap. _

“You didn’t even want to do this, though. Why?” James stared intently into Clint’s face, ignoring the way Clint’s hands moved to free James from his predicament.

“It’s amazing what one can do with the proper motivation,” Clint noted, watching as James’s arm whirred back to life. “Now come on, we gotta plan our escape.”

“What, we’re not waiting for the cavalry?” James asked sarcastically.

“Baby, I  _ am  _ the cavalry.” Clint smirked and waggled his eyebrows. “Nat’s setting charges and Steve and Sam are playing keep away. Well, Sam is, who the hell knows what Steve’s doing.”

“God fucking dammit,” James groaned, ripping the chains from the wall and getting to his feet, working his hands free of the cuffs now he had leeway. “How did I wind up with two blonde disasters in my life?”

“Uh, you gotta type?” Clint offered. James rolled his eyes and heaved a huge, put upon sigh, but he reached down to grab Clint’s hand and haul him up and Clint -

“I kissed Steve,” Clint blurted. James blinked down at him. Fuck. Why did his mouth have to move without any input from him? “Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m sorry – “ cause what if he’d misunderstood this whole time and James hadn’t really been serious about adding Clint into anything?

“Dammit! And I wasn’t there to see it?” James exclaimed.

Clint blinked. James wasn’t mad about the kiss at all, just that… he hadn’t been there. Which, okay, fair. And cool. 

“Y’know, turn abouts probably fair play in that case,” Clint pointed out.

“Oh?” James asked, finally actually pulling Clint to his feet this time.

“Yeah, pretty sure Steve wasn’t in your pocket or anything, so that means he wasn’t there to see it when  _ we  _ kissed.”

James chuckled. “Damn, doll, guess you’re right. And he ain’t gonna see this one either,” James drawled, pulling Clint closer and settling a soft, gentle kiss upon Clint’s lips. It wasn’t hard and heavy, but sweet and full of a hint of things to come.

It left Clint dazed when James finally let go. He shook his head and blinked. “Uh, right.” he cleared his throat. “Time to get our asses in gear. Think you can break down the door?”

Snorting, James swept past him, arm going back and then smashing through the solid wood and steel till it was lying in splinters at their feet. After popping his head out for a quick look around, James turned and swept an arm in front of him.

“After you, sweetheart,” James said in that Brooklyn drawl that shivered over Clint’s spine.

* * *

Getting out of the would be bad guys base after that was a cinch. Despite having been blown up before, the bad guys had actually recreated the original base rather faithfully. After snagging their gear, Clint and James made really good headway, snapping Nat up on their way out.

She nodded at James, and James nodded back, her hand going to her ear briefly as she filled Steve and Sam in on their current status. The three of them hoofed it back out through the breach Clint had created and circled around to where they’d hidden Starks plane. Happy was at the controls when they swarmed inside and he gave them a nod, starting everything up.

Distant explosions rocked the plane and moments later, Sam and Steve were inside the plane, Steve beelining for James.

Clint carefully stepped out of the way as he watched their tearful, joyful reunion, as Steve ran his hands over every part of James and James saying, “I’m okay, Stevie, I'm okay.”

Steve kissed him then, deeply, passionately, James pulling at Steve’s neck to bring him in closer, before the parted, and Steve pressed his head against James. “I almost lost you again. Can’t keep doing this to me, Buck.”

“I’m right here,” Bucky said softly.

Clint stared, turning as he realized there were tears in his eyes. He closed them and took a ragged breath. That was it. Whatever they were playing at, there couldn’t possibly be any room for him. The love they felt for each other was far, far too great, too  _ profound _ . It was both beautiful and heartbreaking to witness.

But it wasn’t  _ his _ . He’d just been kidding himself.

And then hands settled on his shoulders, and Steve murmured, “Clint, let me see you - are you all right?”

“He was beat up a bit before he found me, Steve,” James said, closer than he’d realized. Then a thumb was brushing over Clint’s cheeks and Clint’s eyes startled open. “Oh, sweetheart. C’mon, let’s get you patched up.”

“I - I’m fine,” Clint stuttered out gruffly, trying to wipe away the tears on his face. There was no way to hide that he was crying, not with them right  _ there _ , but there was no reason to prolong it or make them feel guilty for being unable to give him what he wanted.

Gently, they tugged him away from the others, to the section of the plane that was walled off, tugging him inside and urging him to sit down. It was James that found the first aid kit as Steve helped Clint to pull off his gear, but both super soldiers winced when presented with the damage.

Clit shrugged. “Look, it’s nothing to worry about, honest. I’m used to cuts and bruises. I’ll heal. It’s not that bad.”

“You got hurt for me,” James said, cleaning the cuts on Clint’s face first. 

Shrugging again, Clint closed his eyes, so he wouldn’t have to stare into James’s face as he bandaged Clint up, their faces far too close. “It’s my job,” he said without thinking and James’s hand froze, a mere heartbeat, before moving again. 

“Steve.” James’s voice was made of steel. Of vibranium.

“No, Buck,” Steve said calmly. “He didn’t sign on again - I wouldn't have let him if he’d tried.” Clint tried to make an indignant sound, but Steve kept going. “But I couldn’t stop him from joining me, much less playing bait, I swear. I didn’t want him getting hurt or worse either.”

“I’m right here,” Clint finally protested.

“I know, doll, I know,” James soothed. “Steve’s an ass.”

“Hey, I was trying to keep him safe!” Steve said, exasperation clear in his voice. “Is it wrong to want  _ both  _ of you safe? I care about you - “

“You don’t  _ actually  _ know me,” Clint pointed out, though he’d felt that he and Steve really had been getting along fairly well in the short few days it had been since he showed up on Clint’s stoop.

“I told you before, I feel like I already do, through Bucky, and I know he’d never love anyone he didn’t feel worthy of that love. If he loves you, I know I will too. I already like you Clint, and I think you like me at least a little too,” Steve said, edging closer to Clint. “I can’t give you a chance if you go off and die on us and the simple fact is, both of you are hurt because of  _ me.” _

“Stevie’s always wanted to protect folks, even when he couldn’t,” James said, finally moving on from Clint’s face to patch up any other cuts and wrap his ribs. “Even when it’s from  _ himself _ . What he forgets is that we both made our own choices, and he ain’t any more at fault for this than he is for the Dodgers leavin’ New York.”

Clint snorted at Steve’s splutter. He looked carefully up from James’ dark head of hair into Steve’s indignant face. 

“He does seem the type to take too many of the world's cares as his own,” Cint said roughly, his throat thick with feeling. 

“Hey…” James’ hands stilled and he looked up when Clint turned back to him. “From what I hear, we _ all _ have a tendency to do that - blaming ourselves for things that couldn’t be helped, for things that weren’t really our fault, in the end.”

Clint closed his eyes against that knowing look. The narrow emergency bed he was sat upon as James worked dipped as a weight settled on it, and a line of heat pressed against his side. He swallowed, wanting to let himself fall into that heat and never come back up.

“Yeah, guess we  _ do  _ have that in common,” he croaked. Clint’s therapist would call this progress, he knew, if he hadn’t quit going long ago. Sam was the closest he had to a therapist these days, and he didn’t actually do any therapizing on Clint. Much. “Among other things.”

James’ hands, so gentle, slid along Clint’s torso with a hum, a last look before he rose to his feet and settled on Clint’s other side. Bracketed like that, Clint almost melted, but he held himself as rigid as possible.

Then James turned and he wrapped his arms around Clint and Clint felt a part of himself relax. He’d missed James’ embrace in the short time he’d had to make do without. Fuck, but cuddle therapy actually  _ worked. _

Or maybe it was just James?

Two more arms, more hesitant, came around him, but didn’t hold tight until Clint shakily nodded. Steve took it as the permission he’d meant it to be and soon Clint was being held by two super soldiers. He was warmer and more at home that Clint had felt in his entire life. He could probably fall asleep like this, held securely and safely by James and Steve.

“Hey, Stevie, I heard you kissed Clint without me,” James said suddenly.

Steve hummed. “Is that so?” 

Clint tensed up in their arms and a hand scratched up the nape of his neck, burying itself in his hair and tucking him into a chest. 

“Course, I still kissed him first,” James said, smug triumph in his voice. “So what are you going to do about that?”

“I’ll just have to kiss him again, while you’re watching,” Steve said, and Clint’s heart began to pound. “Then I think I'd like to see you both kissing myself. It’s gotta be a beautiful sight. If Clint has no objections?”

Clint squeaked and cleared his throat as he imagined first one, then the other kissing him, with no jealousy between them. Maybe a bit of competition - he was already seeing some hints of that - and that could be damn fun.”

“You guys really want this?”  _ Really want me, the human disaster? _

“No rush, sweetheart,” James said, nuzzling into Clint’s neck, “but yeah, we do. If you’re on board with it.”

Steve slipped back a little, on hand cupping Clint’s chin and urging him to turn and look at Steve. His eyes were wide, cornfed blue innocent and hope. “We got time to take it slow, if you need us to, so you and I can get to know each other the way you and Buck do, before we do anything more.”

“That’s… that’s a good idea,” Clint breathed. “But on one condition -”

“Anything, doll,” James said, a hand pressing up and down Clint’s back.

“All the cuddling.”

“Of course,” James said.

“And uh, maybe some more of that kissing,” Clint said with a waggle of his eyebrows. “Really take our time with it.”

Steve and James laughed. “Jesus, doll, you’re shameless,” James said, lips brushing just under Clint’s jaw, Clitn letting out a gasp which Steve claimed in a quick, soft kiss. 

“Your wish is our command,” Steve said, diving back in to kiss Clint with abandon, trading off with James on occasion, before it devolved into a messy, opened mouthed, three way kiss.

It was  _ glorious. _


End file.
